


Dream a Little Dream

by jooliewrites



Series: Coliver Week 2014 [4]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dreams, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows the way to distinguish a normal dream from a soul dream is scent and Connor’s first soul dream smells like laundry detergent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Cross Posted from Tumblr
> 
> My take on Thursday's prompt for  
> [Coliver Week 2014](http://coliverweek.tumblr.com/) \- Soulmates AU

Everyone knows the way to distinguish a normal dream from a soul dream is scent and Connor’s first soul dream smells like laundry detergent. It is soft and warm and reminds him of years past. When his mother still did his laundry and he slept in a room down the hall from his sister. When his father was still at least attempting to feign interest in his son’s life and his family ate dinner together around one table every night.

He’s in boarding school now. His laundry is done by the school and it always smells faintly of disinfectant. His parents are too consumed with fighting over who gets custody in court to be bothered with parenting the children they both claim so desperately to want. His sister is at her own boarding school across the state and sometimes forgets that she promised to call him every Sunday night; it’s been years since she was one of the new kids and has forgotten how strange it can be moving to a new school that promises to be ‘just like home.’

But in the soul dream none of that matters. It smells like home because he _is_ home. He is older than he is now and is lying across a couch, wrapped up in someone so tight he almost can’t breathe and it’s _wonderful_.

His soulmate (his actual freaking soulmate!) is holding him and Connor is so consumed by the overwhelming feeling he doesn’t even think to pull his face out of the other man’s chest to glimpse at his face. Strong arms surround him, holding him close, and his own hands are gripping the man’s shirt so tightly he actually wakes up with his fists clenched and his knuckles white. Connor feels safe being held in those arms. He feels happy and cherished and loved and protected. He never wants to wake up because nothing will ever feel as good as this.

After the first dream, Connor wakes with a jolt. The scent of laundry detergent lingering in his nose and unexpected tears in his eyes. He had forgotten what being _loved_ felt like.

Connor knows he’s supposed to let the school nurse know that he’s soul dreaming now. She needs to make the necessary notes in his medical chart; soul dreams are shared altered states and can result in the occasional odd side effect. Some things need to be monitored to protect the bond.

But Connor holds off on telling anyone for a while. He likes that it’s a secret between the two of them; it makes the whole thing seem even more sacred than it already is. Connor supposes that his soulmate could have told people but he likes to imagine that he already understands the other man well enough to know that he hasn’t told anyone either.

For a little while at the beginning, it’s just the two of them and Connor wouldn’t have it any other way.

+

He eventually does tell the nurse who hands him a stack of approved literature outlining what to expect soul dreaming and the rules that govern this “delicate mental state.” There are also pamphlets on treatments for suppressing the dreams. Pills and teas and other drugs that he, or his soulmate, could take to keep the dreams from occurring if either sees fit. Connor dumps the whole pile in the first trashcan he finds.

He knows that dream suppressants are necessary for a lot of people. There are many challenges living with soul dreams and one of the biggest downfalls are the memories, or rather lack of memories.

After waking, Connor never really remembers things quite clearly. He remembers the feeling of being loved. The weight of arms wrapped around him and a body tucked against his. He can feel the cotton t-shirt between his fingers and the leather of the couch against his cheek. He can hear the sound of his soulmate’s breath in and out and the steady chime of the clock as it tolls away the hours. But Connor can’t see his soulmate’s face. He can’t remember any of the things Connor knows they’ve said to each other.

Connor likes the soul dreams (okay, so he _loves_ the soul dreams) but often times they leave him feeling bereft. Hopeless in the fact that he loves this dream man so completely but couldn’t pick him out of a line up.

But even with the drawbacks, Connor cannot imagine why anyone in their right mind would ever want to go on dream suppressants.

+

And then he meets Aiden.

Sweet, funny, sexy-as-hell, 100% not-a-faceless-dream-guy Aiden.

For a while they just shamelessly flirt with each other in calculus. That gives way to holding hands in the hallway and sneaking kisses between periods. After a few weeks they are making out behind the equipment shed and have late night, one-on-one, “study” sessions in Aiden’s room.

With Aiden it feels so almost like his soul dream and Connor actually lets himself imagine that Aiden _is_ his soulmate. Convincing himself that he’s one of the lucky ones who found his soulmate early makes the whole relationship feel less like cheating on those morning’s Connor wakes up with the scent of laundry detergent in his nose and Aiden’s leg thrown over his hip.

When he’s with Aiden, Connor feels safe and loved and happy just like in the dream. It doesn’t matter that being with Aiden doesn’t feel _quite_ like the dreams do. He doesn’t feel quite as safe or warm when he’s with Aiden. He feels loved but it’s not with the intensity of the dreams. Aiden’s love feels more fleeting and fluid, like it is slipping through his fingers every time Connor tries to hold it closer. The love in the dreams doesn’t feel like that. It feels steady and unwavering; it’s the foundation that centers him in a world that is constantly shifting.

Eventually, the pressure of comparing his real-life boyfriend to a honest-to-goodness dream man becomes too much and Connor breaks down and asks Aiden about his soul dreaming.

“So what’s your soulmate like anyway?” Connor inquires as he absently traces circles on Aiden’s chest. “Let me guess. Tall, dark, and handsome?”

Aiden chuckles at that. “No,” he says with a smile. He hesitates for a moment and Connor wonders if Aiden is just going to leave him with that when the other man hesitantly says, “She’s—she’s not tall.”

Connor stops to stare at him as Aiden lets his words just hang in the stillness of the room. “Your soulmate’s a girl?”

“From what I can tell.”

That night Connor has the same soul dream he always has but he doesn’t wake up with the contented glow that normally follows. He is angry that he can feel a phantom man’s cold feet against his own as he lies under the covers but can’t see the man’s face or hear his voice or know his name.

That afternoon, Connor stops by the nurse’s office during lunch to make an appointment to get on dream suppressants.

+

The years go on and the suppressants do the trick. His days are spent at work or school and his nights are completely dreamless. On the suppressants he doesn’t even experience normal dreaming and that is just fine with him. He spends years chasing after guys, and occasionally being chased himself, all the while attempting to forget how it felt to be held like he was beloved.

About a week before Connor is set to start law school he breaks out in hives and his fingers begin to swell. His doctor thinks it might be a combination of the stress of starting school paired with the new suppressants he’s trying that causes the reaction. Whatever the case may be, Connor needs to go off his meds for a few days to even out his system before they can switch up his meds.

+

The dream that night is crippling.

Connor is back in that familiar apartment again. He comes to smelling that well-loved scent of laundry detergent and feeling the comforting weight of those arms around him. He buries his face into the other man’s chest, pulling in huge drags like the drug that it is.

“Is this—is this real?” His soulmate whispers with wonder as the arms around Connor tighten. “Is this really happening?”

Connor is too caught up to respond. How did he forget _this feeling_? How did he ever think that giving this up was a good idea?

“I thought—” his soulmate trails off and shifts, adjusting to bury his face in Connor’s neck. “I was so worried—I thought something terrible—No one is on suppressants this long—I thought you’d—”

Connor doesn’t want to hear anymore. He doesn’t want to think about how he deprived them both of years of _this_. He reaches up to pull the other man’s mouth to his for a kiss that’s warm and sure and tastes faintly of tears.

They spend hours reacquainting themselves with each other. In the subdued light in the apartment, Connor catches a glimpse of a shy smile and dark, warm eyes. He rememorizes the feel of lips against his own and his hands map the lines of the body he’d thought he’d forgotten. They talk about everything and nothing at all. Connor says all the worst jokes he can think of because that laugh, _that laugh_ , is the sweetest sound in the world.

They both can sense the dawn that is breaking from the other side. As they each begin to feel themselves slowly waking up on the other side, the kisses take on a desperate tone and the touches get more frantic. Connor doesn’t realize he is repeating apology after apology until his soulmate presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,” The other man repeats like a mantra as he kisses the tears off Connor’s cheeks. The understanding and forgiveness that he is given freely breaks something in Connor and the tears begin to fall harder.

“I'm sorry—I didn’t mean—I didn’t know—I’m so sorry—I didn’t”

“Shhhh,” his soulmate pulls Connor’s head to his chest and Connor realizes they’re back at the beginning. This is how they always begin and end the dream; arms wrapped around him and his face buried in the other man’s chest. Tonight’s dream is over. Connor knows he can have this all again tomorrow night but that’s not going to be enough. A life of chasing shadows is not going to be enough.

“What’s your name?” Connor demands, lifting his head. Tonight he isn’t leaving with his face buried in the other man’s chest. The last thing he sees isn’t going to be the faded gray of that shirt. Tonight he’s leaving looking his soulmate in the eye.

“You aren’t going to rem—”

“What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

The name echoes in Connor’s mind and he realizes with a pang that he recognizes it. Oliver’s right; they’ve done this before. “I’m Connor.” And Oliver gives a small nod. He already knows.

Oliver opens his mouth to say something else but Connor can feel himself waking up on the other side. He fights the pull with everything he has but suddenly wakes in his apartment. His sheets pooled around his ankles and his heart hammering in his chest.

Connor bolts upright and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes to quell the tears flowing down. He tries to catch his breath but he feels like his on the verge of sobbing and can’t manage to calm down.

Coming back from a soul dream is always intense but this time feels worse than every time before. He wonders if it’s because of the long break between the dreams. He hopes that Oliver isn’t—

Oliver.

Connor sits up straighter and finally manages to catch his breath.

Connor remembers his name. Connor remembers Oliver. Oliver! He remembers _everything_.

He has a name to look up and a face (he can remember Oliver’s face!).

Connor can find him. He can find Oliver and they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives waiting for dark.

Connor can find Oliver and they can stand in the light.

Connor presses as hand to his mouth to choke back a laugh that might also be a sob as Oliver’s last sentences echoes in his head.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Soulmate AUs are my favorite thing ever but I've never tried to write one before. Hope you liked it.  
> -Jules xoxo
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com)


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